


Drowning Out the Dark

by FindingSchmomo



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Color Blindness, Drugs, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Soulmates, because of adam lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29914674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingSchmomo/pseuds/FindingSchmomo
Summary: When you meet your soulmate, it’s like the whole world falls away into nothing.Hasegawa Langa lives in a world where people are born color blind and only see color once they meet their soulmate. But Langa is a special case. His vision keeps getting worse, the shades of gray blending into one somber tone, threatening to leave him in utter darkness.And then he meets Kyan Reki.
Relationships: Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki, Hasegawa Langa/Shindo Ainosuke | Adam, but the latter is unrequited
Comments: 11
Kudos: 227





	Drowning Out the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> To future readers: please note I wrote this after episode 9 aired but before the anime finished, in case stuff is revealed that makes this fic outdated in some way.

_When you meet your soulmate, it’s like the whole world falls away into nothing._

* * *

Langa looks out at the dark gray landscape, his forehead against the car window. The glass hums against his skin, making his entire head tremble in its wake. The pressure is nice against his temple, reminding him of the feeling of his goggles, cinched just a bit too tightly by his father to protect him from snow flurries.

He closes his eyes.

His mother glances over at him, her eyes filled with worry. If she didn’t need to keep her gaze on the road, her eyes would be glued to him. Despite the fleeting instances, Langa can feel her gaze on the back of his head.

He wonders how much her sight has faded now. It’s been almost a year. She must have lost the reds and yellows. Maybe even the greens now. Could she still see the blue of his hair now that his father was gone?

When Langa looks in the mirror his hair only looks white, his skin a light gray and his clothes dark grays and blacks. He looks washed out. When his parents took pictures of him in the snow, his features would get lost in the storm of white.

The car stops and Langa grunts as his forehead smashes further into the car window.

“Sorry!” his mother says quickly, and he waves her off, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand. He twists back in his seat to face the windshield.

“We’re here,” his mother continues, twisting the key out of the ignition.

Neither of them move to get out. His mother fidgets with her keys, spinning them around the silver ring they hang from. Langa stares out at the gray building and the black trees in front.

“I’m worried because you said it's getting worse,” his mother says quietly, “I think this will help. But, we can wait a bit longer, if you…”

“It’s okay,” Langa replies, unclipping his seatbelt.

“Do you want me to come with you?” his mother asks nervously, unsure where the boundaries were with a teenage son and his health.

Langa shakes his head as he steps out of the car.

He walks with his hands in his pockets into the reception area. A dark haired man with a mole just below his eye hands him a clipboard to fill out. It stands out against the white porcelain of his skin. Langa bites his lip, suddenly regretting not having his mother come in with him. Going back out now seemed like giving up. Instead, he sits down on one of the chairs and struggles to write out his information, relying mostly on hiragana to get through the page.

It asks for his name, his age, and any health concerns in his family. It asks when his parents met.

There’s a space at the bottom to mark down specific reasons for his appointment. Using his kanji dictionary, Langa does his best to explain:

_The world is growing darker, blurring into one monotonous shade._

He hands the clipboard back to the receptionist.

It’s a small practice and the room is empty except for the two of them. He waits as the man reads through his words. Langa knows his mother had poured through recommendations for clinics for days before settling on this one. He knows it’s and expensive too.

He clenches his hands into fists at his sides, looking down at the desk.

The dark grain of the wood fades, blurring at the edges until the desk looks to be made of a slab of concrete. He grimaces.

“Follow me,” the receptionist says.

Langa does so, going down a dark hallway, who’s walls looked almost black to him. They were covered in abstract paintings, or at least that’s what he assumed, their colors muted and blurring into one another. He could see shapes in them mostly. Circles. Triangles. Hearts.

The receptionist opens a door and lets him into an examination room. Langa sits on the large cushioned chair and is left alone.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

The doctor enters. His hair is combed back neatly, dark against his white skin. His white lab coat blends in, making him almost nude in appearance to Langa's eyes. He looks away shyly even though he knows his just his eyes deceiving him.

“Hasegawa Langa?” the doctor asks.

Langa nods.

The doctor smiles. “I’m Ainosuke Shindo. You’re here because your vision is worsening?”

Langa nods again.

“Let’s take a look then,” he says. His voice is deep, so deep it sometimes sounds like he’s purring. Langa doesn’t know how he feels about it.

He does nothing as Ainosuke maneuvers him, locking his hands to the arms of the chair and swinging the lens apparatus in front of his face. Langa begins to feel the prickle of fear and squints harshly when the light suddenly flashes into his eyes.

“Oh we can’t have that,” Ainosuke continues, clicking his tongue against his front teeth, “Do I need to tape them open?” he chuckles, but Langa feels his heart quicken. He can’t tell if the doctor is joking. He forces his eyes to stay open.

Ainosuke hums, a deep rumble from his chest as he pulls back, “You have beautiful eyes, Langa.”

Langa doesn’t know what to say other than, “Thank you.”

“Your mother’s very worried about you,” he continues, sliding his wheeled seat closer. Langa leans back into his seat. Ainosuke draws up his ophthalmoscope from his breast pocket. The light pierces into Langa’s eyes again, scrutinizing even more closely.Langa flinches again and so Ainosuke puts a hand to his face, using his thumb and index finger to ease Langa’s eye open.

Langa’s fingers dig into the arm of the chair, unable to move from their binds. His heart hammers in his chest.

“The chances of finding your true soulmate in this world get harder and harder each year,” Ainosuke says matter of factly, “I’m sure you know the fact that you’ve just moved across the world only worsens your chances.”

Langa would turn away if he could. But Ainosuke’s grip on him is tight.

“I can give you corrective eye drops for now. They should help keep the world in distinct shades of monochrome.”

Langa nods.

“But that is only a temporary solution. You eyesight will continue to deteriorate without intervention.”

Langa bites the inside of his cheek.

Ainosuke places a hand on his thigh, rubbing circles into it. It’s not comforting, but Langa can’t pull away. “There are ways to circumvent this, however. Not everyone needs a soulmate after all. The concept of is a bit archaic, isn’t it?”

Langa blinks, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You don’t talk much do you, Langa?” Ainosuke says with a smile. He lifts a hand to touch Langa’s lips, and Langa flinches yet again. Ainosuke simply chuckles.

“There is a drug out there that will let you see color when you take it but it’s use is _controversial_ to a the least.” He digs his hand into his pocket, revealing a slim white card before continuing, “But if you are interested…” He doesn’t finish the thought. He lets it hang in the air as he slips the card into Langa’s shirt pocket. He pats it, his hand resting a bit too long on Langa’s chest to go unnoticed.

“Tilt your head back,” Ainosuke orders as he gets up. He retrieves a vial with a dropper. Langa holds his breath and obeys. Ainosuke pries his eyes open to drop the liquid in each. It stings, making Langa squirm in his seat and curl his fingers into his palms. He blinks out a few tears that roll all the way down his cheeks. Ainosuke wipes them away with his thumb.

The world seems to refocus. Edges are sharper. More defined. He can see where Ainosuke’s lab coat ends and his light colored shirt begins. He gasps.

He had not realized how bad his eyesight had become until that moment.

In just one year, the darkness had crept so far in. 

Ainosuke grins at him, releasing him from the chair.

Langa dips his head, “Thank you so much.” He means it. He can even see the heart pattern on the tiled floor.

Ainosuke hums, handing over a box with an identical vial tucked inside, “Put in a drop twice a day in each eye. In the morning and at night. If your vision blurs during the day, feel free to use some in the moment.“

Langa nods, taking the box almost reverentially. He leaves then, an extra pep in his step.

Ainosuke watches him go.

He licks his lips.

* * *

Langa stares out at his classroom blankly. It’s a sea of gray and black, blending together even with the help of his new eye drops. His teacher presses him to introduce himself, and he struggles to see the point of elaborating. Mercifully, he’s soon allowed to sit in the empty seat beside the one student with gray hair rather that the dark black of his classmates. It must be a lighter shade. Brown maybe? That was lighter right?

The boy’s head is down, blending into the gray of his desk. Langa slumps into his own chair, trying to get a better look at the boy, but his vision starts to burn. It’s like the grays are melting together, darkening into a swirl of black and he feels his heart leap in his chest.

Is it not working already?

Is his vision going this quickly?

He digs through his backpack for his eyedrops. He tilts his head back and lets them hit his eyes, blinking away the sting. The world comes back into familiar focus, gray and black and white. He lets out a sigh of relief, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.

No one had paid any mind except for the boy.

The boy looks at him now. He’s not just looking. He’s staring at him, mouth slightly agape. Langa furrows his brow, his heart still hammering from his momentary panic. Now that his vision is crisper and the boy is facing him he can better see his features. His gray hair rises in spikes above his head, a black headband doing little to tame it. His eyes are a lighter gray than his hair. When Langa looks at him, the boy stands up with a jolt quick enough to send his chair screeching to the floor.

“Kyan-kun, looks like you’re eager to read aloud for us,” the teacher interrupts, taking the boys attention away from him. The boy’s face darkens to a deep gray—he’s blushing. Langa feels a bit guilty. Was taking his eyedrops that distracting? But the boy recovers quick enough to start reciting the paragraph in the textbook.

After school, the boy finds him outside, rushing to him with that same gasping eagerness. Langa hunches his shoulders, pressing a hand against his heart. It had been acting up all day, its beats speeding up randomly. He wonders if it’s a side effect of his new medication.

“Umm, hi!” the boy says, shoving his hands deeper into the pocket of his gray hoodie, “I’m Reki. Kyan Reki.”

 _Reki_.

_It’s a nice name._

The thought surprises Langa. He doesn’t think he’s ever considered names to be nice or ugly or anything of the sort before. He frowns, looking away from Reki. Reki moves though, keeping himself in view, his grin growing to take up his whole face.

And then he asks him, “Do you like to skate?”

* * *

Langa sits on his bed, carefully wrapping bandages around his scraped palms. He’d fallen more times than not on Reki’s skateboard, but he can’t tear the smile away from his face. It hadn’t mattered how many times he had fallen because Reki was there to help him back up and council him on how to improve.

Reki was a magician on a skateboard. He could command it to do as he pleased, leaping into the air with ease and having it follow him. He grinded rails, he slid through curves and stopped at will. When Reki skated, it was like he put a spell on Langa to keep him from looking away. But Langa didn’t mind. There was something so brilliant about Reki’s smile when he was on his board that Langa wanted nothing more than to bask in its glow.

His heart would clench and he’d wonder, for a second, what Reki would look like in color.

Langa looks down at his bandaged hands, squeezing his fingers down into his palms to form a fist. He sighs, flopping backwards so he could lay on his bed, his legs dangling over the side. He stares up at his white ceiling. He could have sworn that there were cracks in the paint, but they had blurred away.

When the world became one dark color, would he become blind to everything?

Would he ever get the chance to see the world how it truly was?

He sits up, grabbing his medication to reapply his dosage. He flinches, the sting in his eyes not something he could ever get used to, but it’s worth the sudden clarity in his vision. He lets out a breath.

He digs through the pocket of his jacket, to look at the business card his doctor had handed him. It was a simple white card with an address printed neatly on one side. When he flips it over, a decorative _S_ takes up most of the space.

He closes his eyes.

* * *

Reki catches him with the card at lunch. They’d started eating together ever since the skate lessons began. Reki seemed glued to his side and Langa didn’t mind it. In fact, whenever Reki wasn’t there he would search him out, stretching out his neck to catch his gray hair in the sea of black.

Today, Reki is peering at the sandwich Langa’s mother had made him, so Langa tilts it toward him to offer a bite. The familiar dark color blooms onReki’s face, but he does not pull away. He leans closer, his warmth extending into Langa’s frigid side, thawing away at him. His heart beat quickens. His vision begin to blur, melting together and darkening at the edges.It comes on so fast he startles, stand up to grasp at his bag for his medication.

Reki blinks, staring up at him, his mouth still holding onto part of the sandwich. He looks like a puppy.

_Cute._

Langa quickly turns away, taking out his eyedropper and leaning his head back to let the liquid sting at his eyes. In his haste he’d disrupted the place he’d tucked the business card in and it flutters out. Reki reaches for it before it can blow away in the wind. His hand freezes in place.

He chokes on the bread in his mouth, swallowing it down in one big gulp. He exclaims, “You got invited to _S_?”

Langa blinks (and not just to get the sting out of his eyes). “ _S?_ ” he repeats.

“It’s an underground illegal skating gathering! For the best of the best! The course goes through an abandoned mine. I go there all the time! It’s so cool!”

Langa scratches his neck. It doesn’t sound like the sort of place his doctor would send him. But then he remembers the doctor’s phrasing and how his voice had dropped low and conspiratorially, _the drug’s use is controversial._

Langa swallows, “Are you going tonight?”

Reki’s eyes brighten, “Yeah! Wanna come with!?”

Langa nods and Reki’s grin shines even brighter than when he’s on his board. It’s almost blinding. They sit back down, sides pressed together and Reki even loops his arm around Langa's to get closer. It’s mostly so they can look at the tiny screen of Reki’s phone as he opens up another skateboarding video, but Langa can’t stop thinking about how warm Reki is.

He’s like a candle always burning, and Langa wonders if Reki’s flame hair was orange to match the image forming in his head.

* * *

Langa’s eyes widen as he and Reki make their way through the iron gates into _S._ They’re on foot and have to dodge skateboarders racing past them, laughing without a care in the world. Reki holds his hand, weaving him through the chaos with an easy familiarity.

Langa is grateful for it because his eyes are too busy eating up the landscape to navigate. Even in monotone there is so much life around him. Everyone around him is dressed with a thousand colors, because they become a mystifying patchwork of gray shades, each one sharp and distinct.

There are throngs of people everywhere. Many are skating, but many more are clumped together, laughing, drinking, smoking. _Kissing_. More than kissing.

Langa’s eyes widen as he takes in the sights of people hooking up against the fence and on the dirt. No one seems to care. People watch, others ignore them, and some even try to join in.

He feels a flush overtake his face and looks away. He squeezes Reki’s hand tighter and Reki looks over at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Langa says. It’s easier to breathe when he looks at Reki, “Just, a lot to take in.”

Reki hums, “Yeah. There’s some real characters here. Anyway come on, I want you to meet Joe and Shadow and Cherry and—” Reki stops.

In fact, everyone seems to stop.

Langa blinks, following Reki’s gaze to catch sight of the man who had just stepped into view. He had dark gray hair, spiked in some sort of pinwheel and a white venetian mask on his face. He wore the familiar gray shade of Reki’s hair.

“Who’s that?” Langa asks.

Reki tries to tug him back, his arm gone rigid. His grip on Langa is starting to hurt. “Adam,” he hisses.

“Adam?” Langa repeats.

The man shifts suddenly, looking squarely at them. Reki gulps. Langa blinks.

And then Adam is right there in front of them, smiling down. The eyes of his mask are an endless black void. Langa can see his future in them.

“Oh, there you are,” Adam sings, extending his hand to touch Langa’s cheek. His gloved fingers are cold on his skin and makes him shiver. “Such pretty eyes.”

“Langa, you know _him?_ ” Reki hisses, trying to tug him back.

Langa tries to shake his head but Adam’s hand has dragged down to grip his chin. It looks delicate, but his fingers dig into Langa’s skin like he’s trying to grab his jaw bone. He grimaces, his bottom lip being pulled down by the force of Adam’s hold.

“You’re here to see color, aren’t you?” Adam asks.

Langa swallows.

Reki keeps pulling at his hand but Langa does not move. Slowly, he nods.

Reki stops, “What do you mean?” he asks.

“The poor boy wants to see color!” Adam cries, loudly, swinging around so he can drape an arm around Langaand pull him to his side, “Imagine never being able to see this beautiful face in full color in the mirror,” he gushes, his hands dancing along the skin of Langa’s throat and up to his face. It’s too fast for Langa to even react. In the next moment Adam is caressing his backside, his ass, his neck. His hands move in a flurry, and Langa can’t seem to catch his breath.

“And I can give you that pleasure,” Adam continues, “For the price of just one kiss.”

There are whoops and hollers from the throng of people watching. Langa blinks, his cheeks heating up at the request. But a part of him is slightly relieved. At least it would not cost him and his mother the money they desperately needed.

“Okay,” he says.

Reki pulls back with a thunderclap. Langa turns to him in shock, staring down at his empty hand. The heat leaves him almost immediately, and his skin feels so cold he would not be surprised if icicles began to grow along his fingers.

Reki’s eyes are wide and his eyebrows are furrowed low. His lip is trembling as he struggles to shout, “You don’t see colors!?”

Langa stares at Reki, unsure how to answer the question. Did Reki think he had met his soulmate, already? Was it that weird for him not have found one yet?

“I don’t,” is all he thinks to say.

Something cracks on Reki’s face, and he turns away pushing through the gathered crowd of gray and black. Langa takes a step to go after him, but Adam’s hand on his waist keeps him locked in place. He turns to face him, only for Adam to swing him down into a dip. To keep his balance he wraps his arms around Adam’s neck, bringing their faces close.

“Ooh, you _are_ a fun one,” Adam coos. His breath is hot against Langa’s face. Langa tries to tilt his head to look past Adam, to catch a glimpse of Reki somewhere in the crowd. But everything is gray and becoming grayer.

And then Adam presses their lips together. Langa stiffens, taken by surprise. His fingers fist in the bedazzled collar of Adam’s outfit, the rhinestones digging into his skin painfully. He’s never kissed anyone before. Never _been_ kissed before, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Adam digs his fingers into Langa’s waist, and Langa lets out a pained gasp. Adam dives in, thrusting his tongue into Langa’s mouth and bringing something with it, oval in shape. Bitterness coats Langa’s tongue. He gags, but Adam keeps shoving himself deeper until Langa is forced to swallow the pill whole.

Then Adam lets go, and Langa falls back, hitting his his head with an angry crack against the pavement. He curls up, his hands shooting up to massage the bump growing on the back of his head. He groans, feeling a weird heat begin to grow out from his stomach. He’s always run cold, but suddenly it feels as though his body has caught fire.

It’s different than when Reki touches him—the lovely warmth of his tender flames. No, this is more like a roaring furnace, sudden and terrifying and all consuming.

A hand wraps around his arm, wrenching him up, and it burns him. He wants to scream, the noises of the crowd warping and bending to stab at him from the inside out. But then he opens his eyes.

And he sees _colors_.

Adam is grinning at him. Adam, with his pinwheel _blue_ hair and bright _red_ outfit. The crowd looks at him with wolfish grins, sporting hairs the full spectrum of the rainbow. Langa’s mouth falls open as he eats it up, desperate to lap up every drop of the sudden vibrancy.

This is what it’s like? This is what he has been missing?

He lets out a soft noise, words failing him in this moment to describe what he’s feeling. His heart pumps faster every moment. The world spins, and it takes him a second to realize _he_ is being spun by Adam. He clutches at him to keep from falling, and even then his feet stumble.

But he doesn’t _care_.

Because the trees are a deep _green_ , and the sky is not _black_ but shades of darkening _blue_. No one had ever told him the night sky was its own image of the ocean, dotted by yellow white stars. What else had he been missing all along?

He is grinning. He’s been grinning this whole time. His face is sore from the effort so it must have been a long time. He’s ended up near one of the halfpipes, Adam still holding him close by the waist. Conversation flows around him but he can’t understand any of it. Instead, he sees _purples_ and _pinks_ in the people’s jackets. He sees _reds_ in their lips. And every color on their eyelids.

And then, suddenly, he sees the gray begin to creep in at the edges of his vision. He panics, closing his eyes and pressing his palms into his sockets as if that would trap the colors beneath his eyelids.

But then he realizes he’s forgotten. He’s forgotten to look at Reki. To find out for sure the color of his hair, and he leaps to his feet, desperate to find him. His legs wobble and Adam slams him back down beside him on the bench. When did they get on bench?

Langa lets out another gasp. Turning his gaze to Adam. The blue in his hair is deepening, darkening to a black, while the rest of his colors leach away.

“Coming down is hard,” Adam murmurs, pressing a finger to Langa’s cheek. He wipes away tears Langa has no memory of shedding.

“If you ever need another hit, you know where to find me,” Adam says. He leans in impossibly closer to add, “But the price gets steeper every time.” As if to prove his point, his tongue grazes Langa’s cheek, devouring another one of his tears.

And then he is gone, and Langa is at the gate and the world is a dark gray. The world is as dark as it's ever been.

Darker even than at his father’s funeral.

* * *

At school, Reki avoids him. Langa doesn’t understand why. The first thing Langa had wanted to do when he entered school grounds was to find Reki and tell him of all the colors he saw. Of all the shades that could exist in one person’s face. Of the euphoria of it all.

But Reki doesn’t seek him out. He keeps his gaze down. At lunch he disappears and Langa eats alone on the roof. It’s colder than he remembers it being, the chill of the wind biting at his neck. After school he hurries with his board to their usual practice spot, only to find it deserted.

He slumps on the bench, staring down at the grass by his feet and wondering what he had done wrong. The grass strands beneath him begin to blur into the darkness of the ground. The blurring is becoming more frequent. The darkness edging ever closer.

He puts in a few more drops, blinking away the pain and allowing his heart to settle from its panic. The world sharpens but it is still a dark gray.

Now that he’s tasted color, he can’t find any satisfaction in this measly salve. He thinks about Adam and his slimy kiss. But most of all he thinks of those colors and the heat of his body as he spun in them.

He wants to go back to that world. Where sadness doesn’t heap against his shoulders and the world is a living painting to feast upon.

He wonders if Adam will be at _S_ tonight.

He stands up again, trudging down the hill to follow the path back up to where the course lay. He remembers the trek from Reki’s directions, catching sight of the familiar landmarks with each step he takes. The flower shop at the corner, the thick oak tree between the fork in the road and then the Italian restaurant on the left.

The building is lit up despite the late hour and he wouldn’t have given it any notice if not for the familiar voice that drifts through the open windows.

 _Reki_.

He stiffens, swiveling his head to peer through the glass. He seeks Reki’s slumped form on the counter, a huge bear of a man standing over him, patting his shoulder. Langa tightens his hands into fists at his side.

“But is that even possible?” Reki is saying, his voice mournful and sad. Langa leans in closer to hear better. “For it to be unre..unreki..what was the word you used?”

“Unrequited,” came a silky voice, and Langa sees another man step into frame, his white hair long and in a loose ponytail. He doesn’t recognize the word.

“Yeah, that,” Reki hisses, “How is it possible for you to see color while they don’t?”

Langa hisses, pain driving into his chest only to realize it’s his own finger nails digging in as he clutches at his heart. It’s not just from the pain in Reki’s voice. But it’s from his words. Because it means he’s found his soulmate.

Langa’s not sure why that hurts him more.

* * *

Despite everything, Langa searches the gray and black crowd at _S_ for Reki. Even through the blur of the shades melting into each other, he has memorized the exact detail of Reki’s hair that he knows he could spot it in an instance. But he doesn’t see it. Only shades of gray too dark and too light to be him.

He wanders around, keeping his eyes peeled. It’s been days now since their last conversation. Days since he’d last felt Reki’s soothing warmth against his frigid skin.

_Is he busy with his soulmate?_

The thought itches at his skin and he wants to scratch the words out with his nails, peeling them away to reveal the raw wound underneath. His fingers squeeze inside his pant’s pockets and his head pounds with the screeching of the crowd around them as they watch the big screen. It’s playing some beef between two men.

Langa doesn’t even know why he’s here anymore. Adam hadn’t shown up since that first night, and he was starting to think if it had all been a mirage.

And then, of course, he appears. His arms snake around him, tugging him flush against his front. Langa starts, twisting his neck only to hit his nose against Adam’s sharp jaw. He can see his smile grow, flashing sharp carnivorous teeth.

“You’re back,” Adam purrs, squeezing him closer.

He spins him, his feet tapping in a rhythm on the pavement as he dances through the growing throng of people. Langa holds onto him tightly, trying to keep us as best as he can. Adam pulls him close, so their chests are flushed against each other. Langa sucks in a breath.

Adam moans in his ear and the sound prickles the hairs on the back of Langa’s neck.

He wants to pull away, but Adam has dipped him again, down low, and so he finds his grip only tightening.

“You want another dose, don’t you?” Adam asks, his voice low and dripping with venom.

Langa swallows, looking into the blackness of Adam’s eyes. He nods.

“The price is steep,” Adam continues, dragging him back up and twisting his face to breathe heavily against his neck. Langa shivers. Adam’s lips tickle at his skin, wet and teasing as he asks, “Will you be my dog?”

Langa doesn’t know what that means. All he knows is his heart is hammering in his chest, his face is growing flush and it reminds him of the high he’d received from the magic Adam had given him, and he wants it. He wants to feel that again. For the world to not be somber and gray. He wants it so bad.

So he doesn’t care what it means.

He’ll do it.

Or he would have, if a loud scream did not rip through the crowd in that moment, drilling right into his ears the sound of his name.

_“LANGA!”_

Langa turns, sharp and quick, wrenching free from Adam’s distracted grip. He sees him then, that familiar nest of gray spikes rushing toward him. His mouth turns into a grin without his permission, and he finds the answer to the call falling easily from his lips, “Reki!”

Reki stops short of Adam, who stares down at him with an air of disgust. Reki forces his back straight, taking hold of Langa’s hand and pulling him toward him. Langa lets him, too mesmerized by the feeling of Reki’s hand in his own again. Like returning home after being lost in the darkness of the cold woods for so long.

“He doesn’t need _anything_ , from _you_ ,” Reki sneers, wrenching Langa behind him as if to shield him with his own body.

Adam lets out a deep chuckle, “Oh, I do not think that’s a choice for you to make.”

Reki’s mouth is a thin set line. He doesn’t respond, he just leads Langa away from the crowd, his footsteps heavy on the pavement. He is silent as they walk, Langa struggling to keep up with Reki’s furious pace, until he is let go by a streetlight far from everyone else.

“Reki,” Langa breathes.

“Why are you doing this?” Reki hisses, “Why are you…You taking that _stuff_ from him.”

“Because,” Langa says, and his heart heaves in his chest, still racing even now that he's away from Adam. In fact, it seems to double in speed, forcing him to clutch at it through the fabric of his shirt. He can see the world growing dark around him, blending into the all consuming blackness of the sky. Soon the world would just become the color of a casket.

His voice catches in his throat,“It’s unbearable.”

Reki’s face twists as he asks, “What is?”

“This gray darkness,” Langa hisses, “You don’t understand. You can see color now! You found your soulmate. And I haven’t. And every day the darkness creeps in further to take it all away.”

“But it’s you!” Reki screams, bringing his hands up to fist at Langa’s shirt, as if he were about to lift him from the ground. “It’s _you!_ ”

Langa blinks at him, incomprehensibly. And with each flick of his eyelids he sees the medicine wear off and the darkness creep in. “What!?”

“When I saw you,” Reki continues, his face melting into one deep shade of gray, “In class. That first day. I saw all the colors in the world.”

Langa stares at him. His heart hammers at his ribcage and he fears it may break through and use a broken piece to claw its way out his mouth and make a mess on the floor. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to say.

In the silence, Reki wilts. His grip on Langa loosens to nothing and his hands fall to dangle at his sides. He looks down, “But you still see gray? Even now?”

Langa wants to say something. Needs to say something. But his eyes feel dry and the world is melting away and he’s scared. He’s scare of the darkness creeping in. He’s scared of never being able to see Reki again. So he digs in his pocket with his shaky hands for his vial.

“What even _is_ that?” Reki demands, looking up. His face has blurred, his eye color leaching into his skin. It’s hard for Langa to parse what he’s feeling. He’s always been bad at reading people, but now it is impossible.

“For my eyes,” Langa whispers, “I need them or else my vision blurs, blurs away.”

Reki snatches the box from him, skimming the print on it, “You’re only supposed to take this twice a day.”

“Or if I need it,” Langa continues, trying to grab the box back. The gray of it matches Reki’s shade of skin, and it’s hard for him to figure out where it ends and Reki begins. Both shades grow darker and darker as they mix together.

“I’ve seen you take this eight times in one day,” Reki snaps, “And that’s only when you’re with _me_ —” he stops, mouth falling slack mid-sentence. Then he brings the box back up to his face to look at it more closely.

“Reki,” Langa begs, reaching his hand out as Reki seems to disappear into the foreground, matching the void of the sky. “Reki, _please_.”

“This grays your vision,” Reki says and he sounds so close even though Langa can’t see him. He can’t see him. His chest heaves in, taking in his breaths too quickly.

Reki’s voice finds him in the dark, “Were you taking this before you met me?”

“Y-yes,” Langa says, reaching his hand out. Reki takes it and it tethers Langa in this abyss, helping him to breathe.

“Langa,” Reki continues, “Is everything black right now?”

Langa nods, biting his lip to keep the whimper from escaping his mouth.

“When you meet your soulmate,” Reki says quietly, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of Langa’s hand. It’s nice to focus on the feeling, as the darkness comes to swallow him whole. “It’s like the whole world falls away into nothing.”

Langa blinks, turning his face to where Reki’s voice is coming from, close to his shoulder.

“And then, in a moment, the color rushes through, bursting from your soulmate and out into the world around you.”

Reki squeezes his hands.

Langa’s breath stutters when he sees something in the darkness. A slight strand of red beside him. A trick of his dying eyes?

“Maybe it’ll be slower for you,” Reki continues, “With all these eyedrops you used. But I’m here,” he says, firmly, “I’ll wait with you.”

Langa takes in a heaving breath, focusing only on that one red strand against a sea of darkness. He watches as it bobs. It begins to lower, and he follows, sitting down on the ground beside Reki, their hands never leaving one another.

Reki does as he promised. He waits.

Langa does not know how long they sit there, with only Langa’s ragged breaths to break the silence. But eventually, the single strand turns into several more, until a full spike of hair can be made out. Langa wants to touch the flame but he does not want to risk it disappearing. He does not want to break the spell.

His heart begins to calm and his breaths grow more even. With each slow blink of his eyes, Reki takes form before him. His wild _red_ hair and _dark blue_ headband. His _tan_ skin and _amber_ eyes. It’s him. _Reki,_ in full color.

Langa’s breath hitches.

Reki’s _red_ eyebrows draw downwards, creasing the skin of his forehead, “What’s wrong?”

Langa swallows thickly and feels the tears start to run over his chin, some catching on his lips.

He shakes his head, bringing his free hand up to shield himself with his forearm.

Reki isn’t having it and pries it down, so he can wipe the tears away himself. His smile is even brighter in color. Langa doesn’t know how it's possible.

Reki’s hands cup his face. His fingers are rough with callouses from all the wood working, and yet Langa loves the scrape of them against his skin. They were so different from Adam’s icy gloved hands. Reki’s are warm and he finds himself leaning into their hold, chasing that heat.

Reki smiles, and he flushes a deep beautiful _pink_ before Langa’s eyes. Langa can’t help himself then. He’s too beautiful. Too vibrant. Too… _everything_ , to resist.

He kisses him.

Reki’s fingers dig into the back of his head, getting lost in Langa’s hair as he hungrily kisses him back. Langa finds his own hands moving to find purchase on Reki’s waist, anything to anchor him.

Reki’s tongue swipes across his lips and somehow, Langa sees color on the inside of his eyelids.

When they part, Reki’s lips glisten in the light. His flush has only darkened and Langa knows he must look the same. But still Reki smiles. “God, I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he says.

“Why didn’t you?” Langa asks, “If you knew…if you knew since the beginning?”

“I thought you knew too!” Reki snaps, turning away self consciously, “I just figured you were nervous or shy…or maybe in Canada you had to be super chaste. I don’t know.” He hunches his shoulders up to hide his ears. Even they grow pink in his embarrassment.

Langa stares at him before a laugh bursts out from his chest. Reki blinks, looking over as Langa doubles over, fresh tears brimming from his eyes now from the force of his laughter.

“Will you shut up!?” Reki growls, slapping Langa’s leg, but even _he_ can’t keep from joining in the laughter.

“I can assure you,” Langa says when he can breathe again, leaning close to Reki’s ear, “That the Japanese are _much_ more chaste than us.” As if to prove his point, he nips at Reki’s earlobe, sending a startled shudder through Reki’s spine.

Reki squeaks, then shoots Langa a fierce glare for somehow prying that sound out of him. He rubs his ear with his hand a moment. Then his features soften and he looks back at Langa, “How are your eyes?”

Langa blinks, realizing there was more to see than just Reki. He looks up, and the world is still quite dark, but he can see colors beginning to bleed out of Reki and into the air around him. He can see the slate color of the ground they sat on, the bleached concrete at their backs.

He tells Reki this, and the boy bobs his head up and down knowingly, as if he were in expert in all these things. Langa doesn’t question it, he just smiles at him, basking in the glow of Reki’s color.

He was his candle, chasing away the darkness of the world.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written in one day in a fugue state as I coped with the ending of episode 9
> 
> im in sk8 hell
> 
> let me know if you enjoyed it
> 
> comments make me smile
> 
> yell at me on twitter @findingschmomo


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